Lucifer's Apostles

Prologue January 12 Meeting Tank at the church was his long-time friend Peter Hogan. Pete had worked with Tank long enough to know that the least said, the better. As they entered the church, it was not the hive of activity one would typically see at a murder scene. Tank crossed himself as he noticed why, Tom Williams liked to work alone. It helped his concentration. Tom was his own boss at a crime scene not because of his rank but because if left alone, he could find more evidence than any team in the city. Tank made his way up the aisle and sat at a pew four rows from the front. Tank and Pete knew that disturbing Tom would be a mistake. Tom looked up and said, “Hey Tank, I’ve finished if you want to come up. It’s weird. I haven’t seen one like this before”. Tank was a lot like Tom. He also liked to work alone, although only at the murder site. Once he had analysed a situation, he would lead a team of detectives. Pete stayed sitting in the fourth pew even though he was itching to see why Tom thought it bizarre. When Tank turned the corner of the front pew, he saw what Tom had meant. Laying in front of him was the corpse of a young woman. She had been in her late twenties or early thirties. She had gleaming blonde hair and a fair, if not pale complexion, the type that got sunburnt quickly. Her body was very muscular for a female. Tank thought that she had worked out in a gym instead of outdoors. Not only was her body athletic, but it was completely naked. The victim had been laid out on the pew with her arms crossed over her small breasts. Each hand was on the opposite shoulder. Her pubic region had been recently shaved or waxed. Her legs were smooth and pushed together tightly. The victim was free of jewellery except for a single wedding band on her left ring finger. There had been piercings. He could see holes in her ear and naval. An old Australian penny covered each of her eyes. Tank had heard of the ancient Greek tradition of paying the ferryman so that he would take the deceased’s soul to the other side. He had heard Greeks would also put an extra coin in the mouth. The mouth of the victim was held shut by a tea towel, meaning that the body had been placed soon after her death. Rigor mortis had not set in before the placement. The corpse had been placed here. It was not the murder scene. There was no blood, not a speck that he could see. He knew Tom would either confirm or refute this. There were no ligature marks on her neck to suggest strangulation and no bullet wound entries. The only other explanation was that she had been stabbed in the chest, and her arms were covering the wound. Tank looked up at Pete and asked, “Can you smell vinegar”? Pete Hogan nodded in the affirmative. “Get hold of Katie Phillips and ask her if she can oversee this case, mate”. He bent over and touched the wrist of the corpse. Pulling his finger away, he saw that it had some makeup on it. Standing up straight and taking two steps back while looking at the body before him, Tank said to himself more than to Pete, “It looks like a sacrificial offering”. Chapter One January 14 As the man watched her, he knew she always had the same routine. People were funny like that. Everything was done in a particular order. Whether it was how they ate a meal or which leg they put into their pants first when they dressed. Most of the time, everything had to be executed in the same order. Maria Vardalos would come out of her apartment at around 5:15 a.m. Then, she would stretch while holding on to the fence at the front of the complex for about five minutes before starting her jog. She would leave her driveway and travel East to a park four blocks away. There was a track that circumnavigated the park. She would jog ten laps of the circuit and then take the same route home, arriving at her apartment around 5:55 a.m. She would then do more stretches and return to her apartment. At around 7:00 a.m., she would walk to her Honda Accord parked at the complex’s rear. She then drove to the local train station to catch the 7:30 a.m. train into the city. The train would usually arrive at the city’s Central Station around 8:35 a.m., giving her twenty-five minutes to walk a route that only took ten minutes to her workplace. She would still manage to arrive a couple of minutes late at times with train delays. At 5:00 p.m., she would leave work and catch the train back to her car. She would usually go to the gymnasium before heading back to her apartment. Rarely she stopped at the local shopping centre on her way home. The man knew his best plan would be to abduct her when she returned in the evening. He had two places in mind. He just needed to determine the best option to avoid being seen. It only took one person to be looking out of a window or someone driving close by to have the police all over you. He had to be careful, he had to be precise, and most of all, he had to be fast. There were three hostages back at the house, which had one empty room. The High Priestess would not be happy if it were not filled quickly. She had a plan, and his job was to fulfil her wishes. In the early hours of this morning, he had laid a body out on a bench overlooking a beach and the ocean. His blood was pumping through his veins rapidly, knowing he could have been caught. He was not. He was meticulous. He knew he could leave no traces of himself or the van he used to escort the body. Everything had to be done how he was ordered to do it, with no mistakes, or there would be consequences. If everything worked to plan, and he was sure it would, his empty room would be filled by tonight. *** Detective Senior Sergeant Jonathon Dodge arrived at the scene just after dawn. That was his official title. Everyone called him Tank. He was a gentle giant until someone poked the bear too many times, and then he was not so tender. He was 200 cm tall and weighed 115 kg with next to no fat, even though he rarely entered a gym. He enjoyed walking and had once scared many opponents on the rugby field. Tank had brown hair, an olive complexion and grey eyes. He had been in the force for more than twenty-three years. He became a detective six years after joining. He worked and studied hard to finally become first a sergeant six years ago and then a senior sergeant last year. A large tent had been erected over the scene so it would not be visible to the public. He had seen a lot in his years dealing with homicides. This scene worried him immensely. Here in front of him was a young woman, aged in her mid-twenties, completely naked, laying on her back on a bench seat overlooking the Southern Palms beach. There were no signs of bruising that he could see, no superficial wounds or any sign of blood. The body had been arranged with her right arm covering her breast and her left hand covering her pubic area. Her legs were shut hard against one another. Strangely, a pillow had been placed under her head. As with the first victim, she was killed somewhere else, brought to the bench, and laid out. There was no blood to be seen, and he knew what he would see if he moved one of her arms. His old detective sergeant had often said, "Try not to surmise too much, or you can overlook vital evidence and never interfere with a body before a pathologist has finished with it”. They were values he carried with him everywhere. There was no tea towel under her chin like the previous victim. Two pennies had once again been placed on her eyes. The victim wore no jewellery, not even a wedding band. Her ears had been pierced three times in each ear. Tank left the tent and looked around to see if the chief pathologist had also been called. Katie Phillips was over near her van typing information into her tablet. It was unusual to have a chief pathologist come to a crime scene. This case was different. Tank needed all the assistance he could get. He was pleased that she had been notified. She was brilliant at her job and easy on the eye. They had known each other for around ten years. Katie had sympathised with Tank during his divorce after a similar earlier experience. The two had collaborated on many occasions, and even though they enjoyed each other’s company, the circumstances were always terrible. They had crossed paths socially on numerous occasions, and Tank liked Katie a lot. Regrettably, they had never had a romantic involvement. Working for both was always a priority. She was a natural blonde. Her hair had not darkened over the years, and her eyes were as blue as the ocean on a fine day. Katie looked up and spotted Tank before she ducked under police tape and approached him. "This does not look good, Tank, same M.O. as that case at the church a couple of days ago. I rubbed her wrists and discovered that foundation makeup or concealer had been used to cover up the bruising. The same or a similar product was used on the church victim", Katie said while looking into the tent. "I believe we will find similar bruising and puncture marks as we did previously on the other woman". Katie led him back through the tent flap and crouched next to the corpse, “If you move her arm, you will also find the same stab wound between her breasts as we did on the previous homicide. There is a strong smell of vinegar like before Tank. The unsub washes the bodies in vinegar and lemon juice”. "It’s the same perpetrator for both victims", Tank replied, wondering why he had gotten out of bed this morning. He had a terrible headache. It was not debilitating, although he had to admit it was close. "The last thing we need is a bloody serial killer".